THE IRONY OF LIFE馃様馃様
Duration: 4mins
“Life is in phases, men are in sizes,” goes a popular statement, “what size you are, is inside you, not physical. It’s like an elastic, expand it. Think Big and become Big.”
But how?
All my life, I have been thinking. I had become so used to it I could think for the whole of Africa. Yet, there was nothing big about me to show for it short of my big body, long hands and feet.
At twenty, I was still living off my parents.
When will I get a job to cater for this poor folks whom God gifted me to in their old age?
Poverty has a way of toughening one o. At Seventy, Baami still handled the cutlass with such deftness not many youths could.
“Hard work pays. Keep at it,” he says as I cleared his farm alongside him at the beginning of each planting season.
If it were so, we wouldn't be struggling to get by in life, barely able to feed ourselves even though we toiled daily like jackass.
“No, Baami. Smart work pays, ” I countered always in my mind.
From the look of things, I was also going to find a girl, put her in the family way like other young men around, and start raising children in our wretched state. So we would become three generations of the poverty-stricken, and counting.
God forbid!
Small work, big pay is what I want, nothing less.
I never knew I was going to get my fingers burned silly.
***
In the small village of Agb贸m谩biw贸n, somewhere in the outskirt of osogbo, Nigeria, lived Baami; a yarm farmer, and Maami; a mat-maker. I was popularly known as Oreol煤wa, Omo 脤ya el茅n铆. My parents had a child before me. Uncle Shina was twice and half my age. He was high up there relating with him like siblings didn’t come easy as we appeared to belong to two different generations. I learnt my parents had delay in childbearing after having him. Years after they had given up seeking the fruit of the womb, I suddenly showed up. Uncle Shina lived with his wife and children in the North where he struggled to make ends meet. The little money he sends home once in a while, coupled with the one Baami made from selling his farm produce, and from Maami's mat trade was used to send me to school. After much strive and struggle, my parents saw me through high School and no more. There was no tangible job around that my certificate could fetch me. Farming was the predominant occupation of the people of Agb贸m谩biw贸n. At dawn, I follow Baami to the farm. And at noon, I assisted maami with her mat-trade at the market. This was my daily routine except for days when I helped neighbors on their farms or did their house chores for whatever stipend they could offer.
Is this how I will continue in life, drifting along with no sense of direction nor bearing?
Short of leaving the environment, I didn’t see any way I could make headway. The thought of traveling to the city of Lagos for greener pasture often crossed my mind, but faded away as soon it came. I didn't even have a relative I could stay with over there, not to talk of the cost of traveling. Little did I know fate had something bigger in store for me.
One Friday afternoon, news spread around the village of a middle-aged man who came in, claiming he is a traveling agent to the United States. The organization he represented helped young Africans go overseas where they could study and work alongside. The man who would later be known as oga Chidi was able to convince our village head, Baale of the offer, who further passed the information across. But it turned out Oga chidi had come to the wrong place. It was only the Baale who was able to rally round for the required cost of visa, ticket, feeding and accommodation to send his only son, Folusho, a young man of about my age.
₦400,000?
If ten families could pool their resources together to send one lucky youth through a random pick, still, the people wouldn’t be able to come up with the cost within the two weeks timeframe.
One would think my parents weren’t residents of Agb贸m谩biw贸n. Not a word from either of them of this news that had been trending in the last couple of days even the deaf couldn’t feign ignorance.
What is the point?
if the opportunity was way beyond reach, there was no harm living it in my wishes. I became a pipe-dreamer. Laid supine on my bed every night with folded arms cradling the back of my head, and widened eyes staring blankly into space, sleep eluded me as I drifted in and out of my world of fantasy where I saw myself in an airplane high up in the cloud being served by a hostess. I was later in an enclosure, seated amidst blacks and whites receiving lectures. There I met and fell in love with a beautiful white girl, and we got married. I hoped Maami would like white kids.
At a time, I snapped out of my reverie.
Ore, when opportunity is said to come but once, If lost, it can never be regained again. this is it. Will you just sit and watch this lifetime offer slide by?
“Baami, what can you do to help me harness this traveling opportunity?”
Alarmed, he almost fell off the rocking chair on which he sat that evening.
“Oreoluwa, are you kidding? ₦400,000? That’s a fortune. How do you want us to come up with such amount?”
Silenced, I left him for a while. And like the tempter, I returned to him the next day...
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To be continued same time, next week. Hope you enjoyed the read?
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